Silver's brows lift, and he can't help the fact that he also finds it funny. The whole thing is preposterous. The thought of lineage mattering like this is completely far-fetched to Silver, even before he'd joined Flint's crew. Senority he understands, but not when it comes to things like this.

At least this guy seems to think the same. Everyone here has been both far too easy and incredibly difficult to read. It's what's keeping him here instead of heading home.

"Silver," he says simply, and instead of shaking the other's hand he firmly clasps the other's forearm just above the wrist. "John Silver. Benedict, I don't suppose you would do a man a slight favour?"